


Odds and ends

by BecauseImClassy



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Antagonistic Flirting, Canon Rewrite, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, smooching with food
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-06-08 10:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6851119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseImClassy/pseuds/BecauseImClassy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of short things. Will be updated as I think of more.</p><p>1. Sparring<br/>2. Strawberries<br/>3. alternate take--first kiss<br/>4. On the roof<br/>5. alternate take--unexpected company<br/>6. Kiss ficlets</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sparring

**Author's Note:**

> This first one is a little friendly(?) sparring between Matt and Marci. Takes place just after Past imperfect, present tense. If you haven't read that, here's all you need to know: Matt and Karen are back together, Marci previously tried to bug Matt by getting Karen to talk about how hot Daredevil is, and Matt and Foggy have just made up.

The two men approach Marci and Karen on the dance floor, Foggy leading Matt by the arm. It looks like they’ve made up, again, and Marci tries to feel happy about it for Foggy’s sake. She knows he missed his best friend, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Even though she, herself, has never been able to see what’s so great about the guy.

She gives Foggy a resigned half-smile as they reach her and Karen, and raises her eyebrows. Foggy grins, a little sheepishly. Karen, on the other hand, is clearly delighted. She grabs Matt and hugs him, and he smiles and says something in her ear that Marci can’t hear over all the other noise in the bar. She lets him go and then grabs Foggy, hugging him too.

Matt reaches out toward Marci, and his hand finds her arm—he is _not_ going to try to hug her, is he? But no, he just steps in close, so close that his chest touches her shoulder. He runs his hand up her arm, past her shoulder, until it’s resting on the side of her neck. And yeah, he’s blind, and sure, the place is crowded, but _really_. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was making a move.

He bends to speak in her ear. “I hear I have you to thank for bringing Foggy here tonight.” He’s so close she can feel his breath warm on her skin, and his lips actually brush her ear, while his thumb runs lightly along her jaw. _What the hell?_ Her breath catches slightly despite herself, her skin flushing. He’s hot, she’s never denied it, but dammit, she does _not_ want to be attracted to Matthew fucking Murdock.

“Get off!” she exclaims, smacking his shoulder. Thank god he’s blind, he can’t tell she’s blushing.

He lets go of her and steps back, giving her a grin of pure malice. So, he did it on purpose. Marci’s a little impressed, she wouldn’t have expected that from a good boy like him. But still, he can’t know how she responded to him. He can’t have heard that hitch in her breath, or the quick lift of her heartbeat. He’s just _assuming_ she was turned on, the cocky bastard. Is this payback for earlier, when she tried to make him jealous by getting Karen to talk about Daredevil?

Whether it is or no, she’s not about to let him get away with it. She steps after him, putting a hand on his cheek to turn his head and bring it down to her level. She stands just close enough for her breast to nudge his arm, enjoying his startled look.

“You know,” she says in his ear, “Foggy’s coming home with me later for sex. Why don’t you and Karen come too? I’ve got a _big_ bed, I’m sure we’ll all fit.”

Matt’s jaw actually drops in sheer disbelief. He looks appalled, actually, which is not the reaction she was hoping for, but at least she’s wiped that smug look off his face. She’ll count it as a win. She was just trying to unsettle him, after all. It’s not as if she meant it.

“Marci,” he answers, “of the four of us, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who would think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, it is _not_ a good idea. But I bet it’d be fun.” She gives him a wicked grin. But of course he can’t see it, so she pats his cheek and adds, ” _Do not_ try to mess with me, Murdock, you’re punching above your weight.” He just laughs, and she decides that’s a win, too, although there’s an edge to his smile that she doesn’t much like the look of. Whatever, she can handle anything he might throw her way.

He turns away from her, toward Karen and Foggy, who are watching them curiously. Well, whatever that exchange must have looked like, Marci’s pretty sure they can’t have overheard what she and Matt were saying.

He gives Karen an entirely different smile and sweeps her into his arms, planting a kiss directly on her lips. Marci stares, wondering how his aim is that good when he can’t see. Luck? Muscle memory? There’s definitely no other reason for her to be watching so intently. Just perfectly natural curiosity. About his kissing abilities. DAMMIT.

Suddenly irritated, she turns to Foggy, who’s giving her a quizzical look.

“What was that all about?”

She smiles, firmly dismissing Matt from her thoughts, and gives Foggy a quick kiss.

“It was nothing, Foggy bear. Nothing at all.”


	2. Strawberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Karen buy strawberries and make out. That's it, that's the plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Karen are an established couple, that's all you really need to set this up.

It’s spring, Manhattan’s greenmarkets are filling up with seasonal produce, and Matt says he knows where to find the best strawberries in the city.

He enjoys showing Karen places she’s never been, sharing with her all the things he loves about the city he’s lived in his whole life. And Karen feels like she’s getting to know her new home better, and getting to know him better at the same time. She’s more than willing to go with him to buy strawberries, on a day so warm it feels like summer.

Once they arrive at the appropriate market, he spends some time hunting around among the vendors until he finds what he’s searching for. The smell of strawberries fills the air above the open cartons, and Karen smiles against Matt’s shoulder.

“Wow, they smell amazing,” she says, and he smiles back.

“They taste just as good,” he assures her.

The seller appears to recognize Matt, and offers him a sample. He thanks her and pops it in his mouth, and Karen asks, “What, you’re not going to share?”

She was only teasing, but for a second he looks guilty. Then he grins, his lips closed together over the berry still in his mouth. He leans toward her and cups her cheek in one hand, and it looks like he is going to share, after all.

His lips touch hers and she opens her mouth, but juice dribbles out the corners and they both start to laugh. Some of it does get into her mouth, though, and he’s right, it tastes amazing. She shamelessly licks the juice off his chin, and locks her lips more securely onto his. She sweeps her tongue into his mouth, looking for more. The touch of his lips, his hands, sets off a familiar warm glow of desire, and she presses close to him, wanting to feel his body against hers.

Matt can feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. Her arms curve around his shoulders, one hand ruffling the hair at the back of his neck. The smell of strawberries mingles with the spicy smell of her hair and the warm scent of her skin, perspiring slightly after their walk. As she continues kissing him, her tongue probing softly and thoroughly into his mouth, the musky, unmistakable scent of arousal is added to the mix. His own, as well as hers.

She sucks on his tongue, and he only just manages to stop himself from groaning, mindful of the fact that they’re in a very public place. He keeps his hands decorously placed, one on her cheek, the other on her back, resisting the urge to stroke her body and pull her even tighter against him. Karen hasn’t forgotten where they are, either—he hears the slightest vibration of her vocal cords, before she successfully suppresses a moan.

The whole thing takes only a few seconds, until the last of the strawberry is gone and they break apart, flushed and breathless. The seller looks taken aback, but is clearly fighting a smile.

Karen beams, holding Matt’s hand to her face so he can feel her expression. “Best strawberries in the city, you’re absolutely right,” she says, letting her lips brush against his palm as she speaks. “We should definitely buy some, and take them straight home with us.” It’s not hard to follow her train of thought, or to imagine the possibilities for himself. He sincerely hopes his jeans are hiding his erection from public view.

“That is an excellent idea,” he tells her, with a big smile of his own.

They eat a few berries on the return trip, but save most of them until they get back to Matt’s apartment, for what promises to be a deliciously memorable afternoon.


	3. alternate take--first kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate version of the "first kiss" scene from season 2 episode 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone recently pointed out on [tumblr](http://vera-invenire.tumblr.com/post/146158414959/no-but-listen-heres-a-thing-i-dont-understand) that it's out of character for Karen to be so willing to let slide the fact that Matt is obviously hiding something, and it got me thinking.
> 
> This is how I imagine the "first kiss" scene from 02.04 might play out, if she didn't let it slide.

Matt trails one finger slowly up Karen’s arm, tracing the path of a single raindrop over her bare skin and up to her shoulder. Her breathing sounds suddenly loud in her own ears, quick and shallow. She stands frozen, tingling all over, desire pulsing in her veins, as his hand rises up to touch her cheek. She stares at his lips, mesmerized, as he tilts his head and leans toward her.

And then he kisses her, and she can move again. His lips are soft and electrifying on hers, and she kisses him back eagerly. God, she’s been wanting this for months. She presses herself against him, clinging to his shoulders, feeling the warm touch of his hands on her arm, her face.

Matt can hear her tiny, involuntary moan, her heart pounding almost as loudly as his. Heat radiates off her skin. The warm, familiar smell of her is faint, muffled by the rain. Her lips taste faintly of beer. After all his uncertainly and hesitation, suddenly kissing Karen has become the easiest thing in the world, and he doesn’t ever want to stop.

But he does stop, pulling away just far enough to ask breathlessly, “Can I take you out to dinner?”

Karen smiles, pressing her cheek to his, happiness flooding through her. But as she opens her mouth to answer, she abruptly remembers. Matt is hiding something. Fairly obviously, since he’s a terrible liar. He basically admitted as much just the other day, after she called him out on his bullshit “blind guy” excuses.

The “yes” on her lips dies away unspoken, and instead she asks, “Are you going to tell me…whatever it is you haven’t been telling me?”

He stills under her hands, but says nothing. After a long moment of charged silence, she continues. “If we’re just friends, then…I’m sure you have your reasons for not wanting to tell me, and I’ve tried to respect that and not push. But, Matt…” She reaches up with one hand and strokes the side of his face. “If you want more, I—I can’t let myself get that close to someone that I know is lying to me.”

Her words land like a punch to the gut. But he knows, in the depths of his Catholic conscience, that she’s right. He has no right to try and attach her without telling her the truth. He’s been keeping his enhanced senses a secret for twenty years, even from the people he’s dated (with one exception), trying to convince himself it was a harmless deception. But Daredevil is a much harder secret to keep. And Karen absolutely does not deserve the quantity of lies that would be required to keep it, if they get any closer.

But…but. His relationship with Elektra, the only one in college who had known the truth, had ended disastrously. Claire, the only woman he’s tried to get close to, who knows the truth, since he became Daredevil, distanced herself from him just as soon as she understood what being Daredevil really meant. And when Foggy found out….

Matt puts his hand over Karen’s, where it still rests against his cheek, and turns his head to kiss her palm, and sighs. “When Foggy found out,” he says quietly, “It nearly destroyed our friendship. He was so angry, and so hurt, I thought I’d lost him forever. You saw for yourself what it did to us.”

“Oh,” Karen breathes, the pieces falling into place.

Matt nods. “Foggy wanted me to tell you then, but I couldn’t face it. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and if he couldn’t accept the truth, then how can I expect better from anyone else? To go through it all again, with you…” He leans his cheek into her hand, looking unhappy.

“But he’s accepted it now, hasn’t he?”

“He’s learned to live with it. But I think he still doesn’t like it. And I just…” He sighs again, and finishes even more softly, “I’m afraid you won’t want to have anything to do with me, if I tell you.”

For a moment, she feels angry. Suspecting that something would be a deal-breaker, and deliberately hiding that thing—it’s dishonest, and _manipulative_ , and—and once again, the words die unspoken on her lips. Because Karen is also hiding something. And yeah, she’s afraid that Matt will turn against her if she tells him. Her anger is swept away by guilt. Whatever it is he’s hiding, she’s pretty damn sure he hasn’t _killed_ anyone.

“Me, too,” she answers him, barely above a whisper, but the sudden lift of his head tells her that he heard. She takes a deep breath. “I…Matt, there’s something I haven’t been telling you, too.” She shudders, seeing again in her mind’s eye the dead man slumped over the table across from her.

Matt feels her shudder, and hears the stressful rise in her heartbeat, the change in her breathing. He’d suspected, months ago, that she was hiding something. But he has no idea what it might be, to still be upsetting her this much.

“Karen, what…?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t want to think about it.” She gulps, feeling tears prick her eyes. “I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me,” she manages, her voice wobbly.

Matt has no idea what to say to that. What could possibly change his opinion of her as badly as she’s suggesting? So he says nothing, gathering her into his arms and tucking her head against his shoulder, offering comfort. She leans on him willingly, her arms going around his waist.

They stand together in the warm rain, not speaking, both of them longing for a closer connection but afraid to risk telling their most closely-guarded secrets.

After several minutes, Karen says quietly, “I don’t notice either one of us volunteering to confess.”

“No,” Matt agrees, stroking her wet hair. A moment later he adds, “But I don’t notice either one of us letting go and walking away, either.”

“No,” she whispers, smiling against his neck. Being in his arms like this feels so good, so _right._

But.

She lifts her head and presses her forehead to his. “I mean it, Matt. If we do this, it can’t be based on lies. From either of us.”

“I know. You’re right.” Her lips are mere inches away from his. It would be so easy, so sweet, to kiss her again. He sighs, his breath gusting warm against her cheek. _So what do we do now?_

She answers his unspoken thought. “I think maybe we both need to sleep on it. Think things over.”

He nods. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

“And then we can talk about it again.”

“Yes.” He nods again, rubbing his cheek against hers.

“Okay then.” She steps back, reluctantly pulling away from him. “I should go.”

“Of course. It’s late.”

She looks around, and spots a cab coming down the block toward them. “Here comes a cab,” she tells him. She steps back in quickly and kisses his cheek, then slips away before he can react.

“Goodnight,” he calls after her.

She looks back, and sees him smile. “Goodnight,” she answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist ending on a hopeful note, even though we all know what's about to happen as soon as he gets into his apartment. *shrug emoji*


	4. On the roof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a small bit of domestic fluff. Talking and snuggling.

Matt and Karen sit together on the roof of Matt’s apartment building. It’s a winter night, past the arctic chill of January but still cold. Karen’s been feeling cooped up, a long stretch of bad weather keeping her her mostly indoors. So tonight, when Matt suggested they go up to the roof for a while, she was happy to agree despite the temperature. They huddle together in coats and hats and mittens, side by side, arms wrapped around each other and a blanket wrapped around them both.

“How does it look?” he asks her. He learned to do without sight a long time ago, and it’s not often he asks what something looks like. But he wants to understand Karen, to know how she perceives the world around her. Now that she’s given him a second chance, he’s paying attention. He likes hearing her describe things, getting a glimpse of the world through her eyes.

“It’s overcast,” she tells him. “All the light coming up gets reflected by the clouds, so the whole sky is glowing. And I can see much more sky, up here, than I can down on the street.” She tips her head back, leaning on his shoulder. “The sky looks so small in a big city like this,” she adds, sounding a little wistful.

“Do you miss Vermont?” he asks hesitantly. She never talks about the small town she came from, or her family.

“Noooo. I’m much happier here.” She snuggles in closer to him, rubbing her cheek against the scarf around his neck. “But some things, yeah. I guess I do. I miss the sky, I miss the stars. Here, even on a clear night there’s hardly any stars.”

“This is the only sky I know,” he says, sounding a little wistful himself. “Even when I could still see, I’ve always lived in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“That’s not a bad thing, though. You’ve never wanted to leave, have you? I couldn’t wait to get away from my home town. So we’re both where we want to be.”

“That’s true,” he agrees, and gently bumps his forehead against her like a cat.

Karen looks around her, and continues describing what she sees. “I can see other rooftops, with chimneys and air ducts and things. The buildings that are taller than us, I see walls, and windows. Lots of lit windows, but some dark. No streets, no traffic. No crowds of people. There’s _space_ up here, and quiet. It’s strange, but in a good way. I like it.”

“Me too,” he says, pleased. He spends a lot of time on rooftops, scanning the city, and it _is_ different perceived from above. He’s glad that she likes it, that he can share this part of his world with her.

“What’s it like for you?” she asks, turning her head to look at him. “What do you…sense? If you don’t mind telling me? Could you tell if it was day or night, if you didn’t know?”

“I don’t mind. And yes, I can tell.” He takes her hand and rubs his thumb over her mitten-clad fingers, while he tips his head and considers the night.

“Nights sound different from daytime. There are different patterns of activity. Fewer people on the sidewalks. More animal activity, a lot of urban animals are nocturnal.” Karen hadn’t thought about that, but it makes sense. “Even something like traffic, there’s always traffic, but there are still differences between night and day. And people sound different, inside their apartments, although I try to block out…domestic sounds, unless I can hear something really wrong.”

“Domestic sounds,” Karen repeats thoughtfully. “You must be _able_ to hear a lot of things you really don’t _want_ to hear.”

“Yes,” he agrees fervently, nodding his head. “Smells, too. _So_ many smells.”

“Ewwww,” she groans, sympathetically.

He grins. “It’s not bad tonight. Winter smells better, in general, than summer.”

“Anything that smells bad, smells worse in the heat.”

“Right. And again, night smells different from daytime. Partly because it’s cooler at night, and partly just because different things are going on. Right now I can smell…exhaust. Food being cooked. Garbage. A dead animal nearby. I could smell all of that during the day, too, but…” He frowns, trying to find the right words. “It’s not easy to explain. The balance is different. And there’s lots of other things that blend together into a sort of a background smell. I could focus and identify more if I had to.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, leaning his head against hers, then he nuzzles into the small space between her scarf and her hat. “I can smell _you_ ,” he says, and kisses the angle of her jaw. “And myself, but I can always smell myself.”

Karen blushes a little at the idea that he can smell her, and tries not to feel self-conscious.

Matt feels her skin heat. “Does that make you uncomfortable? That I can smell you?”

“I know it shouldn’t,” she says, laughing. “I mean, bodies make smells, right? That’s just how it works.”

“Well, I know a lot of people have a problem with that fact. I don’t, though. I mean, I do try to block out or ignore a lot of the input. But smells can be useful information. The way people smell helps me recognize them, and sometimes helps me interpret their emotions.” He pauses, and smiles. “Also, some people smell really _good_.” He nuzzles her jaw again, and turns her face toward him with one gloved hand. “You smell beautiful,” he murmurs, and starts kissing her cheeks, her nose, her chin.

She smiles and kisses him back, whatever parts of his face she can reach, her arms tightening around him. When their lips finally touch, a small, satisfied sound vibrates in her throat. They kiss gently, unhurriedly, until Karen feels a tiny spot of cold wetness on her face and looks up.

“Oh! It’s snowing.” Fat white flakes are starting to drift down all around them.

Matt tips his head back, feeling pinpricks of cold touch his face and instantly melt. “Should we go in?” he asks.

“Not yet. This is nice.”

“It is,” he agrees, and kisses her again, soft and cold.

“Soon, though,” she says. “We’ll get wet if we stay out too long in this.”

“We’ll dry,” he shrugs. “We can have something hot to drink when we go in, if you want.”

“Mmmmm, yes. And then some _one_ hot to go to bed with.”

He laughs. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Good.” She kisses him, smiling, then puts her head on his shoulder to watch the falling snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Telling her how she smells as a prelude to smooching. Oh Matt, you smooth operator.


	5. alternate take--unexpected company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate take on a scene from 02.08--what if it was Foggy, not Karen, who came over to Matt's place and found Elektra in his bed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a tumblr prompt, but not exactly. I was asked the question on tumblr, and decided to treat it as a fic prompt, rather than just writing out my opinion.
> 
> Original can be found [here](http://trombonesinspace.tumblr.com/post/160674374519/s2e8-a-different-question-on-the-karen-stumbles#notes).

Foggy knocked on Matt’s door, wondering if he was doing the right thing. This trial felt like a looming disaster, just waiting to fall on his head, and a lot of that was Matt’s fault. Not all of it—he couldn’t really blame Matt for the fact that their client was a murderous nut job. But it was Matt, along with Karen, who had talked him into taking Frank Castle’s case in the first place. And then Matt had abandoned him, leaving Frank’s defense entirely in Foggy’s hands while he ran around doing god knows what with _Elektra_ , of all people—Elektra, who had lost them a crucial witness by intimidating him and rendering his testimony inadmissible.

Should he even bother asking Matt to take the lead in questioning Frank on the stand? Karen was convinced Foggy could do it just as well himself, and Matt had done nothing but let him down since the trial began. But Foggy was hoping that Matt’s own experience with Frank, the things Frank had told him, would give him some insight. Something they could use to sway the jury in Frank’s favor. It was a slim hope, but it was all he had.

The door opened, and Foggy found himself staring at an old man. His eyes were filmed over to a pale grey, and he looked as tough and wiry as…as Matt. _What the hell?_ Matt probably didn’t know _that_ many old blind guys that looked like they could kick your ass—this must be the guy that had trained Matt to fight. What was he doing here?

Foggy pulled himself together. “Hi,” he said, keeping his voice as neutral as he could. “Is Matt here?”

“He is,” the old man answered, his voice gravelly and brusque. He stepped back from the door, and Foggy walked in. The man said nothing else, leading Foggy down the entrance hall without a word. There was no sign of Matt in the main room. The bedroom door, surprisingly, was closed.

The old man went and pulled it open far enough to stick his head in. “You got company,” he announced, opened the door wide, and walked away. Matt stood just inside the door, and beyond him…Foggy felt a stab of furious anger at the sight of Elektra lying in Matt’s bed.

“Matt, what the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing—“

“Foggy, Foggy no, it’s not what it looks like, she’s hurt,” Matt interrupted him urgently. “She nearly died, she had nowhere else to go.”

Foggy paused, and glanced at Elektra again. This time, he noticed her extreme pallor, her unnatural stillness, only her eyes moving as she looked from Matt to him and back again. A little of his anger dissipated, and after a moment he gave her a curt nod. “Elektra,” he said, his voice flat. She looked at him somberly, but didn’t answer.

He didn’t bother asking why she wasn’t in the hospital, if she was hurt that badly. Hospitals were where normal, sensible people went when they got hurt, and he was completely certain that there was nothing normal or sensible about any of this.

He looked back at Matt, and asked, more quietly this time, “What the fuck, Matt?”

A pained look crossed Matt’s face. He looked anxious and exhausted. He came out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him. “Let’s, uh…let’s go upstairs, we can talk outside. All right?”

“Sure,” said Foggy, shrugging as he turned toward the stairs. “Why not. If I’d known you had company, I would have called ahead.” He followed Matt up the stairs to the door leading out onto the roof.

Once they were outside, Matt said, “We were fighting the Yakuza, and she got stabbed. There was poison on the blade. If Stick hadn’t arrived when he did, she would have died. He knew how to neutralize the poison.”

_Stabbed with a poisoned blade. Of course._

“He’s the guy who trained you?”

Matt nodded.

“And he’s part of what you’ve been doing with Elektra?” Whatever that was. He barely remembered what explanation Matt had tried to give in the restroom at the courthouse. He’d been too angry to listen. And right now, he didn’t much care. All he cared about was the fact that Matt was ignoring all his other responsibilities to do…whatever he was doing. Which apparently involved his old mentor, as well as his ex.

“He just showed up, Foggy, I didn’t know he was even in the city. But yeah, he claims to know about the stuff she asked for my help with.”

Foggy pinned him with his best make-the-witness-squirm stare, not caring a bit that Matt couldn’t see it. “Have you been sleeping with Elektra? Before she got hurt?”

“No!” Matt’s shocked stare looked genuine, and Foggy relaxed slightly.

“Good,” he said. “But Matt, you have to tell Karen.”

Matt shook his head stubbornly. “I can’t tell her…” he waved his hand toward his apartment. “…all that,” he finished comprehensively.

“Yes, you can,” Foggy answered. “You’re going to have to tell her something. She’s already mad. If you keep lying to her, you’re going to lose her.”

Matt looked torn, but still stubborn, damn him. Foggy suddenly felt weary of the whole mess. “You know what?” he said. “Fuck it. Maybe you _should_ lose her. Whatever it is you’re doing here, if it needs that much of your time and energy, you shouldn’t be trying to start a relationship at the same time. Frankly, you shouldn’t be trying to anyway, if you aren’t willing to tell her the truth. Karen deserves better than that.”

Matt bowed his head, but said nothing. Foggy took a deep breath, reining in his anger with an effort.

“I didn’t come here to talk about your needlessly complicated love life,” he said. “I came here to talk about the trial. Remember that? _The People v. Frank Castle_? That other thing you’ve been neglecting?”

He watched as Matt visibly struggled to bring his mind back to the trial—the trial that Foggy had never wanted to be a part of in the first place, he reminded himself bitterly. “I want you there tomorrow, Matt. We need you.”

“I thought you weren’t going to count on me for anything any more. You told me to stay home today.”

“Yeah, I did. And you know what? We made some good progress today,” he told him. “But we had a setback, too.”

“What happened?” 

Foggy summarized the day’s testimony, from Colonel Schoonover, and the medical expert who had explained the long-term effects of Frank’s brain injury. Matt’s expression sharpened as he listened, and Foggy saw with relief that he finally had his full attention.

“But then, the son of one of Frank’s victims was in the gallery, and he started yelling about how Frank killed his father. You could practically see the jury turning against us.” The outburst had only highlighted Foggy’s discomfort with this case—his own sympathies in that moment had been more with the bereaved man than with the one he was supposed to be defending. “Karen and I talked about how to mitigate the damage, and we decided we should call Frank tomorrow as a witness. Frank's agreed to testify. We need to get the jury on his side, and putting him on the stand to speak for himself is about all we’ve got left to try. Are you in, or do I keep fighting this case on my own?”

“You want me to question him?”

“Yeah, I do. He told you his story, right? You understand what he’s about, you have at least some sympathy for him. That’s what we need. Hell, I’d let Karen question him if I could, she’s got more sympathy for him than anyone. But that’s not an option. Will you do it?”

He could almost see the gears turning in Matt’s brain as he examined the problem, tipping his head as he considered possible strategies.

“I’ll do it,” he said, nodding. “Stick can look after Elektra.”

“Okay, good.” Foggy puffed out a breath, wishing he felt better. Wishing that a part of him wasn’t warning: _don’t count on him. Don’t believe it until he actually shows up in court to do his damn job._ The fact was, he didn’t trust Matt any more, and he hated it.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said. He couldn’t imagine trying to prepare for a day in court with Stick and Elektra for company, but that was Matt’s problem, not his. “Call me if you want me to go over anything with you.”

“I will, thanks.” They went back inside, and Matt walked him to the door.

“Nice meeting you,” Stick called from the kitchen.

“You bet,” Foggy muttered under his breath. When they reached the door, he turned to Matt. “Last chance, Matt,” he said, very seriously. “Don’t blow it. Please.”

“I won’t,” Matt answered quietly.

Foggy turned to go, then turned back. “And think about what I said about Karen, will you? Maybe it’s none of my business. But what if she’d come by today, instead of me?”

Matt sucked in his breath, looking appalled.

Satisfied that he’d made his point, Foggy opened the door. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in court,” he said, and walked away.


	6. Kiss ficlets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently on tumblr, I was involved in a discussion about writing Karedevil fics, which led me to try writing some very short fics about Matt and Karen kissing. I posted 10 of them over the next several days, and now I've collected them all together to post here. 
> 
> I tried to come up with a variety of different situations and moods, but they don't make up any kind of connected sequence. Each one stands alone, I wrote them as I happened to think of them, and they are in the order I posted them on tumblr.

“Karen,” he whispered, hearing the ache of longing in his own voice, his senses taking fire as she stroked his cheek. “Are you sure this is what you want, after everything I’ve done?”

She pressed her forehead to his, her arms sliding around his neck. “I thought I’d lost you,” she murmured. “Now that I’ve got you back…it doesn’t mean the past doesn’t matter. It does. But I’d rather work through our problems than go on living without you. I want this. I’m sure.”

She kissed him, gentle and warm, and he finally allowed himself to hope, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

* * *

“Should a vigilante be fraternizing with the press?” Karen teased as they lay in bed, Matt’s lips tracing a line of kisses along her jawline and down the column of her throat.

He grinned. “Should a journalist be fraternizing with the subject of her latest article in the highly respected New York Bulletin?” he countered.

“Hmmm. It sounds terribly unprofessional, doesn’t it?” She sighed contentedly as he trailed more kisses along her collarbone.

“I’m afraid so,” he murmured, tipping his head up so he could kiss her lips.

* * *

Matt could hear the pounding of her heart. He could smell her fear.

“Karen,” he said urgently, “I have to do this.”

“I know,” she said firmly, the tiny tremor in her voice nearly undetectable. “I know. The city needs you.” She pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly for a moment, then pressed her lips to his in a fervent kiss. 

“Just come back in one piece,” she whispered.

“I will,” he promised, leaning in to return both the kiss and the hug, before he turned away and rushed out the door.

* * *

Matt stuck his head into Karen’s office, a wide smile on his face.

“What happened?” she demanded, standing up and pulling him inside. She had wanted to be there today at the courthouse, but Matt’s latest case wasn’t her story, and looming deadlines had tied her to her desk.

“ _Not guilty_ on all charges,” he said with great satisfaction, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her soundly. “I know you have to work,” he went on, “But if I bring you take-out, will you have dinner with me?”

“I’d love to,” she said, smiling and kissing him back. “Congratulations, Mister Murdock.”

* * *

They sat outside together on the roof after dinner, sharing what was left of the bottle of wine as the sun set.

“It’s so peaceful up here,” Karen said softly, leaning back into Matt’s embrace, his arms encircling her from behind, his legs bracketing hers.

“It is,” he agreed, “Especially with the right company.” He kissed her head where it rested on his shoulder, her hair soft under his lips.

She smiled, and snuggled deeper into his arms. “I can’t argue with that,” she murmured, raising his hand to her lips and kissing it.

* * *

She woke when he came in, as she usually did, and got up to see if he was all right.

“Karen,” Matt said, his voice ragged. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

His voice, the instant apology, the dejected slump of his shoulders, all told her it had been a bad night. She went to him without a word and wrapped her arms around him, and he leaned on her and hugged her hard with a sigh.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, stroking his hair.

“No. At least, nothing serious.”

“Good.” After a long moment, she pulled back slightly and cupped his face in one hand. He looked exhausted. “Get yourself cleaned up,” she said gently, “And then come to bed.” She pressed her lips to his forehead, then his cheek, and he closed his eyes.

“All right,” he whispered, with another heavy sigh.

* * *

Karen shuffled into the kitchen, where Matt was cooking eggs. She had had a long week of late nights, and was still fast asleep when he decided to get up and start breakfast.

He thought it was the smell of coffee that finally drew her from her much-needed rest, but to his surprise she walked right past the coffee pot on the counter and came to stand behind him at the stove, slipping her arms around his waist. She yawned, and rested her cheek against the back of his head with a small, contented sound.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he said with a smile.

She turned her head to nuzzle him, rubbing her nose in his hair and kissing the back of his neck. “Morning,” she answered sleepily.

* * *

Matt drifted slowly back to consciousness, aware of warmth in the bed beside him, a second heartbeat close to his own, the air between them stirred by her slow breathing. He stretched carefully, easing stiff muscles, and inhaled her familiar scent, that meant _home_ and _safe_ and _love_ , amazed all over again that Karen still cared for him, and that they were together.

Her heartbeat quickened slightly, as did her breathing, and he knew she was waking. A minute later she yawned, arching her back into a stretch of her own, then turned on her side, reaching out for him when she saw he was awake.

“Hi,” she said, her voice throaty and blurred with sleep.

“Hi,” he answered, a rare feeling of pure happiness filling him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she snuggled in close, pressing her lips to his in a soft, leisurely good-morning kiss.

* * *

Matt heard Karen enter the coffee shop, her feet tapping briskly across the floor, her voice saying a cheerful hello to the young woman behind the counter. He stood up from his table to meet her, glad to hear her in such a good mood.

“Hey there, handsome,” she greeted him, giving him a hug.

“Hey there, yourself. What did Ellison think of your article?”

“It’s going on the front page!” she told him proudly, lifting his hand to her face so he could feel her beaming smile.

“Karen, that’s great!” He kissed her, and she made a pleased sound and pulled him closer, kissing him back with enthusiasm. “Congratulations,” he added once they broke apart, both of them smiling. “You deserve it.”

* * *

They had dinner at a little shwarma place neither of them had tried before, and then Matt walked Karen home.

“Lots to do tonight?” he asked as they reached her front stoop. They were both busy enough lately that their dates were often just dinner, with work to be done after.

“Yeah,” she admitted, and sighed. “But you know what? I really don’t feel like doing any of it.” She reached out and cupped his face between her hands, giving him a warm, lingering kiss.

“No?” he asked, smiling and slipping his arms around her waist.

“No. There’ll be time tomorrow.”

“Is there something else you’d rather do tonight instead?” he asked, his smile deepening.

 _“Yes.”_

Her arms went around his neck, her body pressed close to his, and then she was kissing him again, this time with a thoroughness that drew an involuntary moan from him before he remembered they were still out in public.

Her lips curved against his in a pleased grin, and she pulled away enough to ask, “Is there anything you need to be doing right now?”

“Nothing that can’t wait,” he assured her.

“Good. Then let’s get inside, before we scandalize the neighborhood.”

He grinned back at her and returned her kiss, just as passionately as she had given it.

“Lead the way,” he said.


End file.
